


The Ropes That Tie Us Together

by AlleyKatt



Category: South Park
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-05
Updated: 2013-06-15
Packaged: 2017-12-10 12:35:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/786113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlleyKatt/pseuds/AlleyKatt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kyle turns suicidal after a string of horrific events. When he decides he is sick of life, the one most unexpected person saves him. Will Kyle find a reason to go on now that he has found someone who loves him? Or will the idea of death become what he really wants? WARNING: SLASH EVENTUAL KYMAN AND OTHER PAIRINGS. RATED M FOR NON-CON, VIOLENCE, DRUGS, ABUSE AND SEX. DARK THEMES.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PS: after receiving a comment on this fic, I just wanted to let everyone know that this fic was very heavily inspired by another fic 'the ties that bind'. Check it out on fan fiction if you want: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/2993901/1/The-Ties-that-Bind the start of my fic is similar, but the whole plot will be completely different, so don't think that it is just going to be a complete copy, because it really isn't.

"Shane! Oh my... Oh yeah! Fuck, oh Shane!"

I cringed, grimacing at the horrific sounds that vibrated through the ceiling above me. I reached for the TV remote and stabbed my thumb down on the increase volume button. Despite my best efforts to drown out my Mom's screaming with Terrance and Philip farting on each other, I could still hear everything. A loud banging from upstairs and more sexual noises, then I finally decided I was sick of it.

"Ay!" I shouted up to them at the top of my lungs. "Would you shut the fuck up? I'm trying to watch TV!"

Soon after I said this, the voices become much quieter, but not quite silent. "Stupid whore," I muttered to myself under my breath. I glared at the 42" HD flat screen in front of me, trying to watch Terrance and Philip in peace. It appeared I was too pissed off to pay attention though.

It put me in a shit mod for the rest of the day. I hated it when that slut I call my Mom just goes and has sex with any guy she feels like, not even taking me into consideration. Stupid bitch. The least she could do is go to their house instead. That way, I wouldn't have to put with having to listen to the disgusting sounds of them fucking each other.

Even after all those years of putting up with it, my stomach clenched up, a horrible sick feeling stirring inside of me every time it happened. No other people's Mom's did I know that were like this. Maybe I'm exaggerating, but I would happily trade Jew boy's Mom for mine if it meant a quiet night.

It'd gotten a lot worse lately. At least two times a day, a different guy each time, never the same. Don't get me wrong though, for some reason unknown to me, all the guys in South Park are willing to pay some pretty fucking good money to screw my Mom. We don't have any other sources of income, so her dirty hooker money she earns in the bedroom and various other places is what supports our 'family'.

So, yeah. All the guys in this redneck mountain town got be laid, my Mom got paid for it, and I just got seriously fucking fed up.

My life pretty much sucked balls.

There were little things that stopped me from going on homicidal rampages, killing everything I come across. Just little things that didn't make my crappy life seem so bad. Like taking the piss out of Butters, ripping on a certain red head Jew, calling Kenny a trash baby or ghetto boy, and killing people's parents and making chilli out of them. Ah... All of those simple little joys in life. I smile briefly just thinking how my life was before this mess.

But I always wanted more, demanded every drop of power I could get my hands on. There was a craving inside of me I couldn't sedate no matter what I did, hell, I still do have that craving to this day.

So being the arrogant, stubborn asshole I was, I carried on until I was bored. Bored of the same shit every fucking day. Nothing ever changed. I usually got my way and what I wanted, but the thrill was gone.

Looking back, ever since I got out of Mr/Mrs Garrison's class and started High School, life has been more or less just a boring drag. Nothing much else has changed since Elementary. I'm still the total jerk I always have been. I've lost a lot of weight, and if I must admit that I am actually pretty hot now. Stan is the usual pretty boy dumbass he always has been, that'll never change. Kenny is still living in the ghettos of South Park with his ridiculous orange parka. Actually, me and Kenny are a hell of a lot closer that we used to be. I'd almost say I don't hate the poor bastard.

And then there is Kyle. I guess you could say that small, painful, irritating little smartass has changed the most. He's no longer something I can rip on or toy with, despite how much I want to. I barely see him anymore. It's clear why he's changed so dramatically, and I can admit it's my fault.

I honestly do wish I could rewind the last two months of my fucked up life, just go back, and force myself to do the right thing when I saw him in that alley. But, at that point I loathed him so much I gladly watched the gruesome things those people did to him with a stupid grin on my fucking face. I really was a sick bastard. Well, I still am. Of course I always will be an evil, manipulative, cold hearted jackass, but if there was one thing I change in my life, without hesitating, I would have gone back, and saved him that day.

One more sexual cry entered my ears and I decided I wasn't going to listen to this shit anymore. I would rather have Justin Bieber screeching Baby at me for two hours straight. I shot a quick glance at the clock. I had ten minutes to get to school. With a heavy, pissed off groan, I forced myself from the incredibly comfortable sofa and shoved a sausage roll in my mouth.

I was out the door in under a minute - surprisingly fast considering it usually took me five minutes just to track down one of my gloves. I left in my trademarked attire; aqua blue bobbly hat, snuggly warm red coat and my skinny'ish black denim jeans.

Over the years I've noticed that everyone in this fucking god awful town has their own unique style. Kenny has his stupid orange parka that could do with a wash. Stan wears that brown jacket thing and a dark blue bobbly hat no one can separate him from. He loves that thing. Kyle still has his disgusting orange coat that makes me want to puke and that stupid green thing he hides his Jew fro with. Out of all of us, he definitely needs to update his wardrobe the most.

Nothing worth mentioning happened on the bus to school. Nothing ever bloody does anymore. Sure, I pissed off Kyle, laughed at Stan and said something about Kenny's latest whore that made him glare daggers at me. But all of that was so typical, like a routine. Mornings have been more or less the same as this one ever since we were like eight.

I sometimes wondered if the others get bored of this. Surely from the amount of times I've called Kyle a fag, he must be sick of it. I certainly would be if I were him. I should really be ashamed of myself. I'd actually run out of ideas and ingeniously cruel plans to make Kyle squirm. That was definitely my favourite pass time. It still is. Kyle is hilarious to play with, fuck around with and piss off. He gets frustrated so fucking easily it's brilliant.

One of my favourite times was when I gave him AIDS. It was fucking awesome, despite the fact I had them too. Than got we found a cure though. I always knew it would be hard fucking cash. You have to pay for everything theses days.

The rest of the day was uneventful. New ways to torture Jew boy kept creeping into my head, but none of them were any good. Frankly, they were all fucking shit.

It was when I missed the bus home did my life start to have a bit of a spark back in it. I rang my Mom to pick me us, but all I got was an answer phone saying she was busy. No prizes for who guesses what...

Anyway, I decided I would just have to walk home. It was fucking freezing. My balls actually felt as if they were going to drop off because of frost bite. I cringed at the thought. But then the memory of seeing Kyle suck my imaginary balls I smiled evilly. Just as I was thinking of that jew getting down on imaginary Cartman did I see it.

I had gone down a dark alley to try not get covered in more of God's cum as it snowed. It was the kind of alley Barney the dinosaur and other child molesters hang out in. Then I saw him. Kyle. Broken and beaten. He was sprawled out on the cold concrete floor, tears streaming down him bruised and bloody face. I grinned. At the time, I didn't feel even a speck of remorse, only an uncontainable joy bubbling up inside of me. This was certainly new, but I felt disappointed with myself that it wasn't me terrorizing him. Instead three older men were. One of them, bald, mid forties, was pinning him down. It looked painful, his face was being pushed hard into the gravel, his head turned toward me. One of his arms was sticking out at a funny, unnatural angle. I was pretty sure it was broken. I only grinned even more at this.

It was only when I saw that the other man had started unbuckling his belt did I realize their intent. Oh fuck yeah! Kyle was gonna get butt fucked! To further confirm my suspicions, another man, a little younger than the others, began pulling Kyle's waistband on his jeans and underwear down.

Kyle seemed to notice this too, but was far too weak to resist. The most he could do was struggle pathetically.

Oh joy! I fucking loved this! I somehow grinned even further (I don't know how that was possible) and cleared my throat unnecessarily loudly. All four of them looked up at me. The three men looked pissed of at being interrupted, whereas Kyle looked like he had won the lottery. The Jew's striking emerald eyes glimmered with hope as they widened in shock. I could sense someone was about to speak, so I proceeded to do just that before them.

"Holy fuck dude..." I mumbled, slightly shocked at the scene before me. "Why didn't you tell me Kahl? I thought I was your best friend, your supposed to tell your best friend that you're gay," I feigned hurt on my face, but Jew boy didn't seem to fully acknowledge that I wasn't here to help him.

"Oh fuck! Cartman!" His voice was hoarse and weak, but full of hope nonetheless. "Quick! Call for help, please! Now!"

"Don't make me laugh you little bitch," I smiled sweetly at him. His jaw dropped. The men around him still didn't say anything, and only gawked at me with stupid grins on their faces. Freaks.

I turned my back to them. "Catch you later Kahl, you better have done my English homework by the way. It'll be me you'll have to deal with if it's not done,"

"Cartman!" He cried out. "Eric, please..." I ignored him.

"Asshole..." I heard the small squeak of his voice and my grin widened as I walked away.

"No one to help you now, kid," I heard one of them grunt as I went around the corner. I stayed, but out of sight. Call me a fucking freak, but I wanted to hear Kyle's tortures screams of agony as they ripped away his innocence. Now, I didn't want to miss that now, did I?

"N-no..." Kyle's girly voice whimpered. I let out a huff of amusement. "Please, y-you don't understand..." I stiffened slightly. My senses told me this was more than just gang rape.

"Understand what, kid? I'm pretty fucking sure it was you who stole our fucking money!"

Now I was intrigued. Kyle? Stealing money? He is a good for nothing filthy back stabbing, ugly little Jew, but a pathetic one. He will never have the balls to even try something like that.

"Just tell us were it is," I heard a gruff voice. "And I promise not to hurt you, I'll be nice and gent-"

"NO!" Kyle's voice cried out. For a moment, I thought someone would have heard. No one came. "P-please, no! I-I don't know a-anything!" He sounded much more desperate now. With an awful lot of stuttering. He was starting to sound like Butters or Tweak. I snorted at his useless persuasion skills.

"Please... Don't do this... p-please, I'm begging you..." His voice broke. "Please don't hurt me..." He began sobbing pathetically. I laughed quietly to myself. At the time, I found this fucking hilarious.

The men also found it funny and began mocking him cruelly. I waited keenly for the fun part to begin. I was giddy with anticipation at the thought of Kyle being raped. It was almost a turn on.

Almost. That means it wasn't.

Being turned on or hard because of Kyle was just plain sick. At the time.

"Don't worry 'Kaaaahl'," I frowned when they dragged his name out. That's my thing, not theirs. Only I get to do that...

"You'll be begging for more once I'm done,"

The next thing I heard was Kyle's desperate screams penetrating the cold December night.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two - - Kyle's POV

I gulped nervously as I walked down the dark, lowly lit street. I could feel a white hot fire burning into my back as if someone were watching me. I couldn't help but feel self conscience. I was pretty sure I was being followed as I slunked into the dark alley. It's pitch blackness was almost a warning to me, the cold barrenness made me shudder. I briefly thought about walking around the long way, but quickly pushed the thought out of my head. I didn't have time for that, Stan was expecting me at his house in just twenty minutes. It's a half hour walk the fast way as it is.

My own footsteps echoed around me, making me feel slightly uncomfortable. It's only when I heard several more around me did I begin to panic. I tried to convince myself I was just being paranoid, but that only made me think of even worse scenarios that I could end up in. At the time, all I could think about was how I felt as if I were in some kind of horror movie. The type were a young girl is followed home by some creep, then murdered some time later. I shook my head ever so slightly. I'm not some little girl, despite what Cartman says about me. I can stick up for myself more than that ignorant little fatass can.

When I first heard hushed voices whispering behind me, I thought it was just my mind playing tricks on me. It was only when I heard a sudden loud chuckling did I realize it wasn't my imagination. The laugh was cold, and sent chills running up and down my spine. The footsteps stopped. For some reason, so did mine as I came to a stand still. I found myself frozen. God dammit, why was I so scared? I was acting like a total pussy. I huffed, annoyed at my own actions. It's only a dark creepy alley with a group of blood thirst murderers behind you Kyle, don't be such a fucking wimp…

But why was I so scared?

I mean, at the time I was practically shitting bricks. Maybe it was a sixth sense of mine or something. It was as if I could sense danger. If only I has used that power to get away from there as fast as possible.

I wanted desperately to turn around and see who was behind me, but I found myself frozen. I think any other day I would have just span around, middle finger in the air and told them to fuck off. To be honest, I don't know why I didn't. I wish I did, at least that way I would have looked at least slightly brave.

"Kyle Broflovski,"

I froze. I didn't know whether or not to be utterly terrified, or extremely pissed off. I eventually went with terrified as I felt the hairs all over my body stand on end. My insides suddenly went cold and the gut wrenching feeling of dread spread throughout me. How the fuck did they know my name? What were they after? Why were they following me? Countless question sprung into my head, each begging to be answered.

I briefly considered that Cartman was trying to pull some sick kind of joke on me. If he was, it would certainty be something new. He hasn't come up with one original way of annoying me in over two months. My skin crept as I turned around, expecting to see a great big grin on fatass's face.

Instead, I saw three men glaring at me, a cold hatred in their eyes. My breathing hitched as my heart skipped a beat. My mind went blank as I tried to think of something to do. At first, my eyes were glued to them. I took in every detail before me. I didn't recognise any of them, which didn't explain why they knew my fucking name. They didn't look very happy with me either. I gulped.

"Um, yes?" I asked. My voice squeaked and came out more of a weak, pitiful whimper than the determined tone I tried to use. My throat felt dry and parched. I swallowed once again, my throat stinging as I did so. I saw a faint glint of amusement light up in the closet mans eyes. They trailed down from my face to the left where my rucksack was swung round on my shoulder. I quickly worked out what they wanted, but for some stupid reason, my brain would not fucking work properly. All I could do was stare at him, dumb founded. Noticing my hesitation, he gestured for me to hand it over. I frowned. Why would they even want my school bag? The most interesting thing in there was the porno magazine Kenny asked me to hold on to. "Huh?" I gawked at him. Gah! Why was I acting so fucking gormless? They must have thought I was retarded or something by now.

"Hand it over," grunted the man on the left. He had his hood up and didn't look very healthy. He was shorter than the other two. My frown deepened. "Wha…?" I mumbled, my tongue not fucking doing what it was supposed to.

"Just give us the fucking bag already!" I flinched at the man on the rights tone. He was the youngest. No more than a few years older than me.

"Oh," I slipped it off my shoulder slowly, then threw it forward, silently hoping it would hit one of them. When the middle one caught it with ease, a tiny speck of disappointment hit me.

"Is it there?" The hooded one asked excitedly. The middle man, bald and probably the oldest ripped the zip open then took a look inside. I knew I was in trouble when I saw the anger and annoyance on his face.

"Shut the fuck up," the younger one hissed , glaring at hoodie. Obviously he was unaware of his boss' soon to come pissed off mood.

"Where the heck is it?" he looked up from the bag. His eyes bored into mine. I shifted around uncomfortably. I didn't even know what the fuck they wanted!

"Well I don't fucking know," I spat, finding my inner confidence once again. I almost smiled, but restrained myself. " I don't even know what the fuck you're 'onna 'bout,"

His eyes widened in disbelief. Hoodie and his friend exchanged an awkward glance.

"You're gonna tell me where my money is right now, or I will fucking rape you," his threat was serious, his tone deadly. I gulped, unsure of how to respond. I considered telling him my imaginary self has already sucked on Eric Cartman's balls. It couldn't get much worse than that. But I didn't. I had a feeling I would only dig myself a deeper hole by saying shit like that.

"I told you, I don't know," how the fuck I managed to keep my voice calm and collected right then, I have no clue. My palms were sweating and I was already trembling at the thought of rape.

The creepy middle man smiled. I shuddered. It was the same smile Cartman would give me just before doing something horrible. He stepped forward.

"Are you sure about that? 'Cos you're probably worth about the three grand you stole," he towers over me, much taller than he looked a minute ago. Why do I have to be so fucking small?

I nodded meekly. What else was I supposed to do? Pull three thousand dollars out of my ass?

"Fucking piece of shit," he spat and I felt my arms being restrained. I hadn't noticed the other two getting ready to grab me. Ah, fuck. I saw a quick flash of anger in his burning eyes before he sent his fist plummeting toward me. My head swung around to the side violently by the impact. A red hot pain scolded my face before my bottom lip started throbbing. I gritted my teeth, doing my best to ignore the pain.

My eyes began darting around, desperately searching for some kind of escape. It was useless though. If I screamed or yelled for help, no one would hear. This was the dead part of town. Only freaks like the ones beating the crap out of me hang out around here. I thrashed wildly, kicking out my limbs and hoping they would connect with something, There was no was I could break free ff their grip though, it was too tight, and really starting to hurt my right arm especially. It was being twisted around unnecessarily hard, sending pain shooting through my whole body. I felt another blow to my face that instantly made my eye sting like fuck. I still couldn't get my head round why they were even doing this to me. All I wanted to do was take a short cut to meet Stan…

"Shi-ARGG!" I roared through clenched teeth. My arm couldn't take the tension and pressure as it was being pushed way passed it's limits. "YOU'RE GOING TO BREAK MY FUCKING ARM!" I yelled, doubling over as I took a punch in the gut. I spluttered, winded then began gasping for air. My eyes stung, but not because of having his fist smashed into my face. Tears were welling up in my eyes and I blinked back at them madly whilst trying to keep my mouth shut at the same time. I heard a snapping sound, slow and long like when your breaking a tough branch in half. Pain ripped through me like a tornado, but I withheld the scream building up in more raw throat. I felt something wet trickling down my face.

"So, do you know where my money is now?"

I shook my head, squeezing me eyes shut. My arm stopped being torn from it's socket for a moment. The pain was still tearing me apart, but for just a few seconds, it felt slightly more bearable. Then it got worse. I let out a strangled cry, unable to contain it any longer. "Fuck…" I managed to say weakly in a tortured voice as I felt my body slump forward. The only thought I could process fully was why the fuck were they doing this? What king of proof did they even have that I stole their stupid, fucking money? None! I bet they just saw me and decided, 'fuck it, let's go terrorize that kid and maybe our stolen cash will materialize in his bag'. FUCKING JACKASSES! I wanted to shout that aloud but I was too scared to even open my mouth. The terror I would begin screaming in pain stopped me from doing so.

The only thing that stopped me from passing out from the pain was the hope I could save my strength and cry for help once they were gone. I clenched my teeth so I hard I feared my jaw would split as I felt myself crash to the ground. Relief was just about to come flooding toward me when I realized they weren't done with me yet. Someone pinned me hard to the ground, digging their knee into my back. My whole body felt limp and I could barely bring myself to open my eyes as a darkness began eating up my vision. Then I remembered what he said earlier. Rape…

THEY WERE GOING TO FUCKING RAPE ME.

No… no nononono…. What did I do to deserve this? For fucks sake I'm not even fifteen yet! This can't be fucking happening? Panic bubbled up inside of me, but there was nothing I could do. I was helpless. Pathetic. Weak. I couldn't even lift my head up. I felt someone pulling at the waistband of my jeans. I struggled to bat the hand away, but failed.

Then, I heard something. Someone had cleared their throat, rather loudly at that too. My eyes darted up in hope of being saved. They widened in shock and disbelief when I saw Cartman standing at the end of the alley, staring at me. I was just about to speak when I heard him say something. He sounded muffled though, and I couldn't make out a word of it. Was I deaf? Had one of my ears been damaged as I got beaten up? I moved my head slightly which helped a little.

"Oh, fuck! Cartman!" I cried out weakly, my throat burning. "Quick! Call for help, please! Now!" I began pleading for his help, but I was quickly cut off.

"Don't make me laugh you little bitch," the brunette smiled smugly. "Catch you later Kahl, you better have done my English homework by the way. It'll be me you'll have to deal with if it's not done," his smile widened. The small fragment of hope inside of died. "Cartman!" I yelled, grimacing at the pain caused by raising my voice. His eyes met mine. I gave him my coldest glare, but I was still desperate for help. "Eric, Please!" His first name sounded weird as it came from my lips. When he only continued smiling evilly, a distinct hatred in his dark eyes, I knew it was hopeless. "Asshole..." I wasn't sure if this was going to be the last time I would see him or not. I at least wanted him to know what I thought of him. He turned, and just walked away.

I was shell-shocked to say the least. I always knew he hated me, but I never actually thought he would just leave me to die like this.

"No one to help you now, kid," the man pinning me down told me.

"N-no…" my voice was weak and pathetic. "Please, y-you don't understand..."

"Understand what, kid? I'm pretty fucking sure it was you who stole our fucking money!"

"Just tell us were it is," he said to me in a soft, but gruff voice. "And I promise not to hurt you, I'll be nice and gent-"

"NO!" I roared, crying out. It was one last attempt to try make someone hear me, but I'm pretty sure no one did. "P-please, no! I-I don't know a-anything!" My voice was a desperate begging tone. I couldn't help but feel degraded. I may as well have been the shit on the sole of his shoe. "Please... Don't do this... p-please, I'm begging you..." My voice broke as more tears came streaming down my cheeks. I didn't look up to see what they were doing, only heard the sound of fabric being rustled around, he was pulling his pants down. "Please don't hurt me..."

"Don't worry 'Kaaaahl'," he spoke with venom, reminding me of that evil bastard. "You'll be begging for more once I'm done," I gulped, then squeezed my eyes shut so hard it hurt as I braced myself for what was bound to come next.

I felt everything as he pushed himself inside of me. Everything that resembled pain, hatred, or any other form of evil. I directed it all to Cartman, praying that son of a fucking bitch dies. I don't know how long it lasted, the only sense of time I had was counting each thrust he made in my body. I gritted my teeth against it, doing everything I could to block it all out. The only thing I wanted then was to die. For it to be over. Anything to escape the psychopath tormenting me in one of the cruellest ways possible.

I wished he would just kill me.

"WHAT THE FUCK, DUDE! KYLE? WHAT THE FUCK?" I heard a loud yelling and instantly recognized the voice. Usually monotonous, it was lined with confusion, panic and anger.

"Get the fuck 'outta here, kids or I'll fucking kill you myself," I felt him slip from me. I used my good hand to yank my pants up, trying to remain with at least a shred of my dignity. My eyes snapped open and began searching or whoever called my name.

"Oh, J-Jesus! What the-nng, h-heck?" I heard a twitchy voice ahead of me and I quickly found my saviours. When my eyes landed On Craig holding hands with Tweak I wasn't sure if I should be glad they were here, or if I should be worried that they would get themselves killed. These men were dangerous, they'd already proved that.

Craig had Tweaks hand grasped in his which made me frown, but that was the least of my worries. I didn't really stop to think about it. They both looked horrified, but in different ways. Craig's pissed off looking face told me he was seriously fucking angry. I've never actually seen him look this scary before. Tweak looked absolutely terrified, hiding behind the fourteen year old boy in front of him, pushing his face into Craig's shoulder

"I think he's DEAD!" Screamed Tweak, then he jumped backwards slightly, still holding onto Craig's gloved hand.

"I said FUCK OFF," the voice of the older man yelled viciously. This scared Tweak as he jumped again, whereas Craig glared at him., then flipped him off rather casually.

"Get away from Kyle," he spoke calmly, much different to how he yelled a few moments ago. Behind me, the man sneered.

"We're not done. These two haven't had a go yet, and boy… Was he good," I flinched in response to what he said. I saw the man stumble forward across me as I lay sprawled out on the floor, unable to move. As he approached Craig, he reached into his pocket. I saw a quick flash of a silver blade as he whipped out a small, but deadly looking pen knife. Fuck.

"I'll give you one last chance, get the fuck 'outta here," the man threatened. Craig smiled slightly at this. He stuck his hand in his pocket, then pulled out what looked like a gun. Even in my drowsy painful state, I still managed to be a little shocked at seeing such a weapon in Craig Tucker's hand, poised, and ready to shoot.

"I'll stay thanks,"

"Crap…" I heard one of the men who had been more or less silent up until now speak. "He's got a gun. A fucking GUN. What do we do?" he hissed at his 'partner'.

"Get the fuck outta here, that's what, let's go!" I heard a scurrying of footsteps from behind. Craig frowned, noticing the two people running away.

"I don't think they will be having a go…" He murmured, staring after them. The rapist turned. His face turned blank when he saw he was all on his own. He span back around to face Craig, and Tweak who didn't even dare look up.

"Now, now…" he put his hands out in front of him. "We don't want an'body getting hurt now, do we?" He said in a quiet, but clearly pan iced voice. He was shit scared of the gun. If I wasn't lying here half dead, I probably would have probably found the situation fucking hilarious. Craig's face turned sour with disgust.

"It's a bit late for that! Look at what the fuck you did to Kyle!" He waved his gun at me. I nearly flinched. "You fucking killed him you sick freak!"

I frowned. So from over there, I look dead to them. I try sum up all of my will power to get up, or at least pull myself up into a sitting position. As soon a I twitch a finger, Pain rains down relentlessly on me like I'm being pelted by three hundred bullets per second.

"Just put the gun down kid…" He uses a calming, voice, trying to stop Craig from killing him. "And then everybody can go home happy,"

"Just go before I shoot you in the fucking balls."

Instantly, the man backs away nervously before legging it down the alley in an attempt to escape. As soon as he's gone, Tweak says something I can't quite hear to Craig, and he murmurs something back before they both dash toward me. As soon as they were close enough to see there worried faces properly, I let myself fall into the blackness.


	3. Chapter 3

"Stanley! Dinner's ready!" I heard my Mom call to me and with a groan, I got up. With a surprisingly loud yawn I stretched my arms out in front of me for a moment before letting them fall to my sides. Honestly, I wasn't even hungry. Especially after what I had just seen. I was just casually browsing my Face Book, which was boring as fuck like it usually is, when I came across a video. Loads of people seemed to be raging in the comments, so I decided to have a look… Oh God, why did I do that?

The last thing I expected to a see was a video of some fat girl sucking on a used tampon.

Fucking disgusting, but still pretty funny. I was kind of trying not to laugh at the same time as trying not to throw up .  
Speaking of throwing up, Wendy broke up with me again yesterday. Don't know why she did, she never fucking tells me any more. I just shrugged it off though, it wasn't anything new. I lost count of the amount of times we've broken up a long, long time ago, all the way back in Elementary I think. We'll get back together though, we always do. It's usually about two to three days after she dumps me does she turn up with some flowers and an apology. She's so sweet it hurts sometimes. I smiled thinking about her, Don't get me wrong, dude. We may break up more than Taylor Swift has boyfriends, but she's my world. We just need space from each other every now and then. It annoys me when Kyle doesn't understand this. He's always raging on about how if I really do love her, I'd make more of an effort. He doesn't get that our relationship is just how it is, it's just how things work between us.

But I didn't dwell on the thought for too long when my appetite seemed to appear out of nowhere. My stomach grumbled. God, I was fucking starving. I grinned when I caught a whiff of bacon.  
Lovely, beautiful, amazing, sweet, heavenly, juicy fucking bacon. It's the one thing in the world I love more than Wendy. I practically lose myself in the mouth watering aroma as I drift downstairs. By the time I arrive at the dinner table I'm in a bacon trance. How the fuck Kyle lives without this stuff is beyond me. Being a Jew would be awful to me, for that one reason only.

"You're an amazing person, you know me so God damn well," I thanked Mom, taking a seat. I stuffed a bacon sandwich in my mouth and relished in the perfect flavor of perfectness.  
"No problem Stanley… Shelly!" Mom snapped at my sister. "I know you're getting your braces off next week, but please, could you please stop messing with them while you have food in your mouth?"  
"But I want nem off now! I have a boyfriend remember?" Spit flew from her mouth, totally grossing me out. What a freak.  
"Dude, I really don't know how the fuck you managed that," I chuckled, but then received a nasty look from my Mom.  
"Stanley please, this is a dinner table, not Niki Minge's recording studio," I had to bite down on my tongue, hard to stop myself from laughing. I really hope she means Niki Minaj, not Minge.  
"Sorry Mom," I apologized quickly.  
"Besides," she started to say. "We don't want another war do we? Not after last time. I think we all learnt a very important lesson that day, don't swear," Mom pursed her lips, trying to make herself look all important and authentic. The look was quickly wiped off her face when Dad stumbled into the kitchen.

"Hey Dad," I greeted him through a mouthful of bacon and bread. I hope they serve this shit when I go to hell. Dad gave me a goofy grin as he swayed lightly on his feet. Surprise, surprise, drunk again. He was always going out and getting hammered lately."Wassup, Nigga's? I got fucking wasted last night. Woot! Woot!" I hung my head in shame at the disgraceful sight. God help me if I end up like that.

"Randy Marsh!" Mom almost shrieked at him. He blinked a little cluelessly.

"Yes dear, I think that's my name, but after all that fucking booze last night I-"  
"Would you all please STOP SWEARING! Gah! I swear I'll have to get the washing up liquid and wash all your dirty little mouths out with it at this rate!" She shook her head. I only smiled at her frustration. It was entertaining. I shoveled another bacon sandwich in my mouth. The phone rings, and everyone looks out to the corridor, then to each other.

"No way, I'm eating," I informed Mom before she had a chance to ask me. Instead, she quickly glanced over to Dad, who hiccuped, then giggled to himself. Mom grimaced, then settled her gaze on Shelly.

"Sweetheart, do us a favor and pick up the phone?" Mom asked. Shelly grunted stubbornly before standing up, a sour expression on her brace face. "Stupid turds..." muttering, she picked up the phone. "What?" she grumbled, clearly pissed off. "You mean turd face? No... no, no, NO! I meant the other turd. The one with a stupid green hat? Yep, nats turd alright... okay. I'll get him for you," She lowered the phone from her ear and covered the receiver with her hand. "S'for you turd," she held it out to me. I eyed it suspiciously before I leaned over and took it from her hand. The phone felt colder than I expected. I raised it to the side of my head. "Hello?"

"Hello Stanley," an over-friendly voice greeted me. "I'm Doctor Dorian at Sacred Park Hospital, and I have just had a young boy arrive an hour ago. He's just woken up, and his parents thought it would be good if you spoke with him. His name is Kyle Brov... Um, brofloska... No, no, let me try that again, erm, Kyle Br-Brof, no, Brolofski, I mean, well, oh banana fricking hammocks. Kyle B would like you to come by the hospital at some point if you can," he informed me. I nod slowly, my mouth partly open.

"Dude, it's Kyle Broflovski," I let him know. Just for future reference. The line went dead. I frowned. "Hello? H-hello?" No answer. I shrugged, then found myself wondering about Kyle. I felt worried, I mean, why the fuck is he in hospital? What the fuck happened?

"Mom, I'm going out," I snatched my jacket from the back of the chair I was sat on and pulled it on quickly. I also grabbed my favorite hat and shoved my feet into a pair of Converse on the way out the door. I put my hat on, my black hair peeped out from underneath like usual. Wendy says she thinks I look cute like this. It was still snowing, much heavier than earlier, and it was already way above ankle deep. I chewed my bottom lip then waded through the annoying white fluffy stuff toward the main street where the roads had already been cleared. It wasn't a particularly long walk, but the curiosity of what had happened to Kyle ate me up. I wasn't sure whether I should have been worried, scared or whatever for him. The Doctor on the phone seemed pretty optimistic, but they are paid to do that. It is their job, after all.

One I was surrounded by the familiar clean, bland white walls, I approached the main desk. "Hi, I'm Stan Marsh, uh, is there a Kyle Broflovski here?" I waited a moment for the receptionist or whatever she was to check through some files and paperwork. She lifted her gaze to me. "Room 34" I nodded with a slightly nervous smile. "Thanks." I wish Wendy was here with me. She should know what's going on With Kyle too.

Butterflies filled the pit of my stomach as I gently pushed open the door that led to the room my best friend could be dying in. I still didn't have any clue what was going on, and could only pray he was okay. I froze when I saw him. I was only a step into the room, Kyle hadn't noticed I had just came in.

His dim emerald eyes were staring at his hands, unfocused as if he wasn't really looking at anything. His usually fair pale skin was ruptured and corrupt with ugly blotching bruises that were dotted up and down the bare skin of his arms. Smaller, but more painful looking bruises covered his face. Dark purple smudging under his eyes made him look extremely tired and weary. His bottom lip was swollen and a much darker shade of red than usual. Small cuts were scattered all over him, irritated raw skin surrounding each one. I shook my head with a tiny movement in disbelief as I saw his arm all bandaged up in a big cast, a sling wrapped around his neck. His wild hair was untidy and a mess that had clearly not seen a comb lately.

I gulped, not sure of how to respond to the disgusting things that now covered his body. All I could feel was a dull hatred growing inside of me. Instantly I felt almost responsible in a way. Not directly, or remotely really, more as if I should do something about it. My head was screaming at me to kill whoever did this. Hunt them down and fucking kill them in the most painful way possible, but then I stopped. What was I doing? Jumping to conclusions straight away. For all I know, he slipped and fell down a hill.

I was too busy being shocked by Kyle's appearance to even notice that his parents were sat quietly in the corner, solemn expressions on their faces. I frowned, keeping my eyes on the red head.

"K-Kyle..." I tried to speak loudly but all I could manage was a weak, pitiful whimper. He heard me though, I saw the change in his eyes. But he didn't look up.

"Stan, it's... It's good to see you," Sheila gave me a small smile. My frown deepened. She was barely speaking above a whisper, yet this was the woman that started wars because she was so loud. It just felt strange. "We'll be outside if you need us," Gerald patted my pack lightly as he and his wife left the room. As soon as the door clicked shut, I knew pure hatred flooded onto my face. I clenched my fists so hard I felt as if I could break a bone. They trembled violently, my knuckles turning an unnatural white.

"Who did this?" I hissed. My voice was quiet, but venom leaked off each word dangerously as I struggled to control myself. Kyle remained silent. He didn't even bat an eyelash. "Kyle, tell me who the fuck did this," my whole body was burning with something I couldn't quite identify. Was it hatred? Anger? I have no idea. "Kyle," I whispered his name slowly and stepped forward. I didn't care if it was falling down a hill that did that did this to him. I would still go and fucking blow it up.

My hand reached out and touched his shoulder gently. He flinched away and a strange glint of something I didn't quite recognize flashed across his eyes. Whatever it was, it was dark and made my insides freeze. Was he scared? I instantly drew my hand back. I couldn't help but feel hurt and unwanted. Even by my own super best friend. "Dude... Please," I tried to speak without letting my anger through. It was hard. "Talk to me," tears were prickling at my eyes, threatening to spill over. I blinked madly, trying to get rid of them. I couldn't tell if Kyle reacted or not to what I said. My vision was clouded and tearing up quickly.

I let out a shaky breath. He didn't reply. A thick lump was forming in my throat making it hard to swallow. I knew by now he wasn't going to talk to me. The most I could do was talk to him instead. "Okay," I began. My voice wasn't trembling quite as much. "I... I understand dude, I really do," I didn't. I had no idea what he had been through. But I tried to be reassuring nonetheless. "You're my best friend... My... My super best friend," tears were streaming down my face, burning my skin. "I care about you, dude." I shook my head slowly. "And I'm just... sorry. I-I'm so sorry, I don't even know what to say," this was true. I wanted to scream that I would kill the motherfucker who did this. But I couldn't.

"I... I love you, Kyle."

He stiffened, his eyes suddenly coming into focus. I meant what I said so much. He's been my best friend since kindergarten, we've known each other our whole lives. It wasn't the same love I felt for Wendy. It was something that felt... more special. More important. "You've always been there for me. Looked after me when I was feeling shit. You've saved my relationship with Wendy so many times. I just... I just wish you would let me do the same for you," I looked up, blinking away the fresh tears than ran down my face. "So, dude... Please, please just talk to me," my voice broke. Silence. I didn't look at him. A few moments passed, and then he spoke.

"He raped me Stan,"

At that moment, I don't know exactly what happened. A bomb went off in my head, and I felt my insides turn to ice. I couldn't move, I felt paralyzed. When I tried to speak, no sound came out. Nothing but a tiny, barely audible whimper. It took a moment for me to pull myself together, but I still couldn't quite wrap my head around what I had just heard. I wanted to ask so many questions, do so many things. I wanted to scream, destroy everything in my path. I wanted to fucking kill someone. "Who?"

For a split second, I expected him to say Cartman. I was almost relieved when he didn't. "I don't know," his voice was small. I could barely hear what he said. I sat down in the chair beside his bed and looked at him. Rage bubbled up inside of me as his sad green eyes met mine. "I'll fucking kill him," I spat in a harsh whisper. I couldn't let someone get away with something so inhumane. It was fucking sick. "I swear, Kyle, I will fucking mu-" "Stan, it's okay," he insisted. My breathing hitched. How is it just 'okay'?

He was RAPED.

FUCKING RAPED.

Was he even bothered? Did he even care? How the fuck could he not want them dead? "What do you mean, okay? What the fuck is wrong with you!" He flinched at my words and my raised voice. I instantly wished I could take them back.

"I.. I don't know..." Something flashed across his eyes again. Like before, I couldn't recognize what it was. "I just.. I don't want anymore trouble," he was scared. Terrified. This made me angry.

"Well, when he's dead, there won't be any more fucking trouble,"


End file.
